Ghost in the Labyrinth
by Tiamat's Child
Summary: Musichetta has a surprise for her boys... Slash.


Title: Ghost in the Labyrinth  
Author: Tiamat's Child  
Fandom: Les Miserables  
Pairing: Bossuet/Joly/Musichetta   
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: Victor Hugo invented the dears, but they are public domain now, so…   
A/N: Written in 43 minutes for the Contrelmontre 'Unusual Kisses' challenge. I have no idea if any of the cathedrals in Paris actually have a Labyrinth, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if they did. And, by the way, I remain convinced that these three were together in canon. One has to love the French…  
  
  
Ghost in the Labyrinth  
  
"This way!" Musichetta calls, darting around a bend into a tightly spiraling staircase. "You two have to see this."   
  
Joly and Bossuet trail behind her, going slightly slower than she is so that she may have the pleasure of leading them. The stairs are steep, and Joly makes Bossuet go first, saying, "At least this way if you fall you will not crack your head open!" Bossuet laughs, but does not argue, because they both know that Joly is right, most likely he will trip on these stairs.   
  
Musichetta's voice echoes down, telling them to hurry up, you sillies, don't lag, it's worth the climb. Bossuet winks at Joly and runs up the steps, leaving his would be protector behind. Joly can't run as fast as he'd like, because when he does his breath catches and he coughs. He's still not over the cold he caught a week ago, and he's almost afraid it's turning into some worse form of infection, but he doesn't mind it at the moment. He laughs and hurries as fast as he can manage.  
  
When Joly reaches the top step and leaves the staircase for the little balcony it opens onto he finds Bossuet backed against the solid stone by Musichetta, being kissed for all he's worth. He laughs. "Couldn't wait for me?" he asks, not at all upset. He is more than used to the behavior of his lovers.   
  
"Oh but I was!" Musichetta tells him. "I couldn't let him get a look before you were here, and ruin my surprise." She catches each of them by an arm and pulls them to the rail. "Look."  
  
They do. This balcony is tucked away near the altar, and from it one can look down at the whole of the cathedral. Joly glances up, surprised to find that they are nearly in the soaring buttresses of the ceiling. Below them the stones of the floor gleam in the light of the candles and the sun. Now that one is up so high it is easy to see that the floor has a pattern placed in it, a curling path that doubles back in on itself so many times that it is impossible to see how long it might be. A single figure walks that path, a young woman with her hair loose, like a bride.  
  
"Isn't it pretty?" Musichetta asks, "Isn't she lovely? She comes here every day at this time."  
  
Bossuet leans over the railing, making both of them make an involuntary movement to try to catch him. But he hasn't lost his balance at all, he's just trying to get a better look. "Who is she?" he asks.  
  
Musichetta shakes her head. "I don't know. You can only see her from up here. I tried to find out once, but no one knew, no one else had seen her."   
  
"A ghost?" Bossuet asks, his shoulders dramatically falling.  
  
"A ghost!" Joly exclaims. "I win, Bossuet, I was right. Pay up."   
  
Bossuet shakes his head. "I haven't any money. I spent my last sou yesterday, on croissants for our breakfast."   
  
"No matter, I will accept a kiss instead." Joly's grin is echoed by Musichetta's.  
  
"It hardly seems fair to your mistress, to ask her to watch while you embrace another." Bossuet is smiling as well. It is a familiar game that they play now.  
  
"Oh go ahead!" Musichetta exclaims, "No true blooded young daughter of France would deny two such friends their right to a kiss."   
  
"Very well then, if m'lady has no objections…" And Bossuet reaches out, drawing Joly into a solid, warm embrace.   
  
Joly loves Bossuet's kisses. They are always bright and playful and full of that careless joy that makes Bossuet so fine to have for a friend. It is strange to kiss him here, where the stone has not lost it's scent of the deep earth, and the incense marks the air as holy, but it is somehow fitting too, for this is what their friendship has always been. Something very full of laughter, but also something sacred.   
  
When they break apart they notice that Musichetta is smiling at them, her fortune teller's eyes shining in that way they often have. "I think," she says, "That we really should go home now."  
  
So they do, and though they cannot walk side by side on their way down, they hold hands all the way.


End file.
